


The Burnwood Entanglement

by ActualMiscreant



Category: HITMAN (2016), Hitman (Video Games)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Roleplay, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9945602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualMiscreant/pseuds/ActualMiscreant
Summary: Some discreet out of office shenanigans for everyone's favourite ICA employees.Extremely inspired by some REAL goodNSFW artworkyou should look at!





	

Diana placed her drained scotch glass on the hotel bar and rolled her neck, savouring the gentle burn in her mouth as the ice cubes settled in the glass. The long flight had left her shoulders weary and a small sigh escaped on the tail end of her swallowing - a young bartender with tired eyes swept by, refilling her glass without looking up, moving off to clear a table somewhere in the quiet folds of the evening.

She’d been here a while; long enough that a self-described “high-roller” with a loose-tie and red face had flowed into the next seat, snapping fingers at the bartender for more beer and swamping her cool thigh in a moist palm. He was struggling with Bangkok’s climate, mopping his face and neck with an overworked silk handkerchief when she’d palmed the emetic solution into his drink. That was over an hour ago.

The tall glass doors of the Himmapan’s bar were wide open tonight, the soft lighting of the gardens shimmering in the heat of the evening. Butterflies fluttered around the tropical plants on copper and cobalt wings. With the doors open, there was no reflection for Diana to see him approach, gliding silently into the high-roller’s vacated chair.

“The gardens here are quite spectacular.” She remarked, turning slowly to regard his sharp features and pale eyes. 

“It’s always summer, here.” He responded, looking off towards the river beyond the gardens. She traced the lip of her cold glass, her face burning as she took him in; his perfect posture, sharp collarbones in a white summer shirt, hands neatly folded in his lap.

“Victoria,” She blurted. “I’m Victoria. Scotch?” She slid a pitch of water along the bar, already knowing he’d decline - he never drank alcohol. He preferred to taste it on her.

“Tobias, and no, thank y-” He paused as the pitcher arrived in front of him, the whisper of a smile creeping into the corner of his mouth. “This will do fine.”

“Very well, Tobias. What’s a man like you doing at the bar so late, hmm? With those cheekbones, you must be here.. what, modelling for some tropical swimwear company? Beauty sleep not a more pressing matter for you?”

“I work with Human Resources.” He replied, evenly. “The turnover is...” That small smile again.

She’d savour this moment in the quiet morning, hours from now. The warm night and melting ice, his little smirk and the thrill of playing this game, meeting in secrecy, pretend strangers.

“Hey, buddy! This one’s mine, take a walk!” A wet, red hand clumsily slammed onto the shoulder of Tobias’ crisp shirt, and she watched the momentary lapse of the returning high-roller’s bravado as the musculature beneath became apparent. A moment was all he could manage, as Tobias slid from the chair, smoothly twisting the high-roller’s wrist.

“Please, sit.” She watched him use the high-roller’s clumsy unbalance, guiding the man into a seat, turning his head and slamming it into the marble surface of the bar in one movement. The high-roller gurgled and fell silent, just another passed-out drunk in a hotel bar far from home.

Diana stood, drained her drink and hooked Tobias’ arm in her own. The young bartender looked up from a half-polished table as they passed and glanced from the high-roller’s slumped shape to them and back again. 

“I believe he’s best left to sleep it off.” They exchanged a silent nod as she passed him a folded note.

Diana loved to watch him work. He moved like a dancer and made violence into art. It was a rare treat to see him in action, and if the heat between her thighs was any indication, a wonderful start to their evening. They’d worked together for years, him squeezing out someone’s final breath as she listened first with words of praise, then ragged breath, then musky fingers; one life burning bright climax as another was extinguished.

The rode the elevator in silence. They weren’t supposed to see each other or talk outside of contract work, and evenings like this could cost them both their lives. The elevator doors swept open and they crossed the quiet corridor quickly, a smooth swipe of Diana’s key and the cool dark of the suite welcoming them.

“Always nice to see you making friends, *Tobias*.” Diana smirked, tossing her purse onto the bed, backlit by the lights of the city across the river as she closed the heavy curtains. She emphasised his pseudonym, all swollen pride when he chose to use an identity she’d crafted. Grateful for the dark, that it should hide her flushed cheeks and hungry grin.

“I’m always meeting new people, it comes naturally.” His voice by the nape of her neck as her hands tightened on the heavy silk. Her breath caught and she turned, elegant hands pushing him away, and then down onto his knees on the suite’s thick carpeting.

Diana crossed the room and activated dim lights. She returned, sweeping her hands across a leather bag at the foot of the bed and rolled her thumb across the combination lock. It popped open, and she lifted a roll of delicate maroon cord from inside. “I think you’ve forgotten who’s in control here, hmm?” lifting his chin with a free hand, a firm thumb across his bottom lip.

She dragged a swivel chair from the desk in the corner through the plush carpet and sat behind him, her knees grazing his elbows as she looped cord over his shoulders. He moved precisely under her guiding touch as practised hands formed knots in the slender rope, binding his wrists together and pinning his arms behind his back as neat, red strips wove across his shirt, under and around his arms. Demarcating his muscle groups. Restricting his breath.

Satisfied with her work, she wheeled her chair backwards to survey it. She clucked her tongue at him as he shifted beneath the restriction.

“Tch. Behave, now. Turn and face me.”

He shuffled on his knees, slowly turning towards her. She tried to keep the giddy grin from her face. It delighted her to clip his wings, just for a while. It was so satisfying, to have this powerful, beautiful man surrender to her so completely.

In his eyes, she could see a different intensity now. His hunger for her, to have her fingers working on him and not just these ropes. Diana rolled her neck and smiled. Meeting his gaze, she parted her knees and watched his eyes drop to the trim of her stockings.

“Come, then. Prove you’re worth the expensive hotel. I know how you love to grovel, 47.”


End file.
